


office affairs

by doremifasorashige, thunderylee



Series: office affairs [1]
Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12416055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doremifasorashige/pseuds/doremifasorashige, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Kitayama does not have an open door policy.





	office affairs

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

“SHORT IS BEAUTIFUL” reads the sign in Kitayama’s office, high enough on his bulletin board where he can’t reach it to pull it down. This is all Fujigaya’s fault, again. He was the one who gave him that stupid sign in the first place during the Christmas Party last year. He gets it, he’s short. But he does not need a fucking sign in the middle of the office stating that!

And you know, it doesn’t make things better when Fujigaya (who doesn’t even work in the same damn department as him) puts the sign back up _after_ he takes it down. Out of his reach no less.

“I told you to stay out of my office,” Kitayama says roughly in the break room closing the refrigerator with a slam. He remember putting his lunch in there this morning.

Fujigaya smiles down at him from his seat on the counter, he looks impossibly innocent, per usual.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says sweetly, batting his eyelashes, and Kitayama is immediately suspicious.

Maybe it’s the fact that Fujigaya’s sitting _on the counter_ like a six year old, but Kitayama’s eyes gravitate upward and he sees his lunch along with a series of tasty snacks — all his favorites — on top of the refrigerator. Where, naturally, he can’t reach.

“You’re an asshole,” Kitayama tells Fujigaya to his face, and Fujigaya just laughs.

“Let’s go out to lunch,” Fujigaya says for the millionth time since he’s started working here.

“No,” Kitayama replies for the millionth time, then proceeds to get the stool from the storage closet and retrieve his lunch while Fujigaya just watches in amusement.

After retrieving his lunch and coming back to safe ground, Kitayama glares at Fujigaya. “Stay out of my office.” He huffs out of the break room. Maybe he can find Tamamori from down the hall to help him, he’s tall. Strange, but tall.

“I’ll talk to you later Mitsu~” Fujigaya calls out after him peeking through the doorway.

Kitayama stops mid-step and shudders. He hates that nickname, and how the _entire_ office seems to call him that now. Except for Yokoo of course, but then again Yokoo is actually here to do work and not fuck with his co-workers.

“Later” comes entirely too soon, just when Kitayama is finishing his lunch at his desk. He’s just tossing his crumpled up wrapper into the trash when his door opens, making him completely miss the wastebasket.

“Dammit Fujigaya,” he mutters in his I’m-the-boss voice, even though he doubts this one would be affected by it if he _was_ his boss. “I do not have an open door policy.”

Fujigaya just smiles and helps himself to a seat, sucking on a lollipop rather suggestively. “Good,” he says. “Then no one will bother us.”

Kitayama will not let himself be patronized by him; he has work to do. “That doesn’t mean it’s open to you either.” He turns his computer monitor back on, seeing new emails asking for such-and-such to be done by the end of the day, or can he make sure that so-and-so does this. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Watta’s on it.” Fujigaya is entirely too happy sliding his chair closer to Kitayama’s desk.

He narrows his eyes and leans a little on the desktop. “Don’t you ever do your own work?”

Fujigaya shrugs, smile still in place around the lollipop.

Kitayama glares momentarily before snatching the lollipop out and throwing it in the trash. “Go back to work.”

“Yes, sir,” that voice replies, entirely too close as Fujigaya stands up and saunters around the desk. “I’ll get to work straightaway.”

Kitayama frowns a little at the way Fujigaya leers over his shoulder, but nods as he rearranges the papers on his desk that had been cleared for his lunch. “Good.”

The next thing he knows, he’s being pulled back by his tie, and the next time he looks down those devious eyes are staring up at him from between his own legs. “Fujigaya! What are you doing?”

“You threw away my sucker,” Fujigaya says with a pout, and Kitayama inhales sharply as fingers dance up the inseam of his suit pants. “It’s only fair to replace it.”

Kitayama clears his throat. “This is not proper behavior.” He glances wearily at the door. “I have a lot of work to do and someone can come in here at any moment and it’s going to loo-” He gasps when Fujigaya’s nose is all but touching his crotch, brushing along the fabric.

“You worry too much.” Fujigaya slides his hands up Kitayama’s thighs stopping at his hips. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

There is way too much confidence in his voice, Kitayama thinks. He hears the jingle of his belt buckle being undone and a new wave a panic fills him.

“I bet you do,” Kitayama grumbles, but he can’t bring himself to push Fujigaya away as his pants are unfastened. He hisses as his cock is pulled out, already half hard, and he can almost see the smirk on the other man’s face at his obvious arousal.

“Be quiet,” is the last thing Fujigaya says before sucking him down. Kitayama’s eyes widen as Fujigaya doesn’t waste any time, bobbing his head up and down and making him tremble from the rush of heat that consumes him.

Kitayama makes a fist on his desk, pounding it for effect, and Fujigaya groans around his length. He’s hidden well enough, Kitayama reasons with himself, compacted under his desk, and Kitayama finds satisfaction in his discomfort because he’s _tall_.

Then his door opens and Kitayama freezes, staring at his secretary, Senga, as he brings him his messages.

“There is an unscheduled meeting in an hour,” is the first thing Senga says, not sparing a glance at his boss. “And then HR is requesting you send…something to them by the end of the day. They didn’t specify, so you should probably contact them.”

Kitayama manages to direct his gaze to the top of his desk. He slowly flips through a notepad making it look as if he’s busy. He crumples the paper in his hand as Fujigaya works his cock in his mouth, sliding his tongue along the shaft and doing something in the back of his throat that feels absolutely wonderful. It takes all of Kitayama’s power not to make a sound in approval.

Senga flips through some more papers before speaking again. “Yokoo-san also said that he’s going to forward some files that he needs you to check before sending them out.” He places the pile of papers on Kitayama’s desk and steps back towards the door. “The top three are your messages, the rest is everything that was given to me from other floors as you requested or from the mailroom.” His hand is on the door knob and foot out the door before he turns around once more meeting a scandalized look on Kitayama’s face.

Under the desk, Fujigaya’s hands are rubbing along Kitayama’s thighs, massaging them then going around to squeeze his ass. The action causes Kitayama to jump, hitting his knee on the table. He hisses. Fujigaya smiles around his cock before pulling back to the head and running his tongue against the slit.

“Also, tell Taipi that Yokoo-san said he needs to learn how to lock doors and to do his own work once he’s finished here.”

Kitayama’s face turns beet red as Senga walks out and closes the door behind him, _also not locking it_. Momentarily he wonders just how many people Fujigaya has done this to in his department, but the thought is gone once Fujigaya moans around Kitayama’s cock obscenely. Kitayama leans back in his chair, dropping the notepad that was in his hand and gripping his chair arm. “Fuck, Fujigaya.”

Fujigaya makes a loud slurping noise when he pulls away from Kitayama’s cock and pushes the chair away from the desk. “That’s generally how these things work, Mitsu.” He adjusts himself under the desk to get comfortable.

Kitayama doesn’t really think he should be allowed to be comfortable since he’s taller and goes out to make Kitayama’s life miserable because he’s _short_. He doesn’t hesitate to run his hands through Fujigaya’s hair though when the other takes his cock in his mouth once more. There’s no more playing involved this time, Fujigaya’s got his eye on the prize as he bobs his head up and down hand at the base making up for what he can’t take in his mouth. Kitayama loses himself in the heat and starts to thrust up, meeting Fujigaya’s efforts and letting out a loud groan.

Fujigaya takes pride in what he does and starts to move faster, tracing the vein on the underside of Kitayama’s cock and bringing him closer to the edge. He speeds up when Kitayama curses once more. It’s low and breathy as he arches up in his seat, fisting Fujigaya’s hair and trying hard not to basically fuck his face to get that sweet release that he so desires now.

It’s close, he can feel it. “Faster,” he moans and Fujigaya does just that, sucking hard on Kitayama’s cock and finally Kitayama comes hard.

He doesn’t question how Fujigaya can just sit there and swallow all of it up, but it saves for undesired mess so he’s grateful.

It’s all Kitayama can do to stare incredulously at Fujigaya’s smug face as he finds his breath. “Will you at least leave me alone now?”

Fujigaya gives him an unimpressed look as he pushes himself up the front of Kitayama’s body and licks his lips. “For awhile. After I take care of something.”

Kitayama’s only a little bit peeved when Fujigaya hops right up on his desk, loosening his tie with one hand while the other untucks his shirt from his pants. “What are you–” he starts to ask, then his breath catches in his throat as Fujigaya shoves his hand down his pants and grope himself as his head tilts back. The softest moan spills from his lips and Kitayama’s nerves recover long before the rest of his body is ready.

One single lid peeks open and then Kitayama’s on the receiving end of a smirk that looks even dirtier when he’s touching himself. “Unless you want to do it,” he hisses out, lifting his eyebrows invitingly as he starts fisting his own cock. “You better hurry, though, because I’m — ah — real close.”

Something in Kitayama wants to say yes, wants to take hold of Fujigaya and bring him off as well but this is seriously not the time for it. But he’s sitting on Kitayama’s work, and he has to prepare for that meeting. It’s not exactly going to look great on him if he goes into a meeting with trace amounts of unidentifiable (or so he hopes his boss thinks that) substances on his suit, or turns in work that has been under Fujigaya’s ass.

“I can see it, Mitsu,” Fujigaya moans as he thrusts up into his own hand, rubbing against it. His foot is hitting Kitayama’s knee each time he moves, but neither seem to notice. “I know you want to.” The last word is lost as Fujigaya tilts his head back more and begins to spill over his hand. Kitayama scrambles to throw a tissue box at him.

He half expects Fujigaya to wipe it on his desk, but he seems to have some sense of decency (somewhere) and uses the tissues to clean up, all the while smirking at Kitayama like the cat who got the cream. “That’s a shame,” he drawls as he hops off the desk and fixes his pants. “I would have loved to feel your hands on me.”

Something rages inside Kitayama’s normally composed demeanor and his words come without prior thought. “If I didn’t have to go to this meeting, I would bend you over my desk right now.”

Now Fujigaya’s eyebrows rise, looking impressed as he evaluates the situation. “I’ll just have to return later. Shall I set an appointment with Senga?”

“Don’t you dare,” Kitayama grumbles.

Fujigaya tightens his tie, smooths out his hair, and lifts his chin to look down at Kitayama. “See you in a bit,” he says with a wink, then saunters out of his office.

Five seconds later, Senga is in his office, shaking his head as he hands Kitayama some new information for the meeting. “You saw nothing,” Kitayama grumbles, and Senga whistles on his way out. He’d probably already told Nikaido in PR, which means _everyone_ knew by now.

There are a few eyes on him once Kitayama walks out of his office; they turn away the moment he glances in their direction. Senga is at fault for this. He’ll be sure to send a nice thank you to his secretary after the meeting.

It must be pure luck that nothing has reached his boss with the way Nikaido can talk, though there could also be the possibility that Fujigaya has everyone in the entire building wrapped around his little finger, and he really does not want to think about _that_ ever.

Thankfully the meeting keeps his mind off of things for awhile, though there’s the lingering promise of Fujigaya returning to his office later that day. But when he returns after a grueling two hours of sitting around arguing about operations, there’s nobody waiting for him.

He pretends that he’s not disappointed about this.

Busying himself with some work, he doesn’t realize it’s almost time to leave until Senga comes to say good night. Kitayama hadn’t planned on working late, but he can think of some things that he can do to kill some time… just in case.

It wasn’t really like this work was going to do itself anyway.

Even after staying an extra two and a half hours (which is unusual for him by more than half the amount of time) there hasn’t been a single visit to his office. He supposes that at least now the work he wasn’t able to do because of the unexpected visit is done and then some so it works out in the end. Maybe.

Getting ready to go home leaves slight disappointment in Kitayama, he’s just not willing to admit it. Instead he glares at the sign that started it all hanging in the corner of his office taunting him. He needs to figure out how to get that down.

His floor is empty once he steps out of his office, which is to be expected since he stayed late.

On his way out, he passes by the break room and notices the stool in the corner. On a whim, he grabs it and drags it back to his office, planting it right in front of the bulletin board to take down that goddamn sign.

When he steps down, there’s a shadow on his desk, and he’s so startled that he drops the sign. It clanks on the floor, sounding louder than it should with no one else around.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” Kitayama gasps, clutching his heart.

Fujigaya looks darker in the dim light, standing lazily in the doorway. “Getting biblical already and I haven’t even touched you. I’m good.”

Rolling his eyes, Kitayama leans down to pick up the sign, and when he stands back up, there are hands on his hips. “I thought you were going to be the one bending me over,” that voice purrs in his ear.

Kitayama holds back a shiver and steps away from Fujigaya, ruffling the back of his hair to get rid of that skin crawling feeling. “I wasn’t expecting you to take me seriously.” He was hoping though.

Fujigaya smiles and sits down in the chair across from Kitayama’s desk, staring at his back as he shoves the sign somewhere no one will see it. “Mitsu, you offered me sex. You can’t honestly expect me not to take it.” His voice is smug as he lounges in the chair. “How long have we been working together?”

“If by working you mean you’re sleeping with half my department,” Kitayama says placing his hands on his hips once more. “Then however long it’s taken you to sleep your way through my department.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama just shakes his head. “Maybe I was just working my way up to you.”

“Right,” Kitayama says sarcastically as he leans against his desk.

“I’m serious.” Fujigaya stands up and slowly approaches Kitayama like a tiger hunting its prey. “Why do you think I fuck with you so much? Because I want to _fuck_ you.”

Kitayama’s fist is around his tie without prior thought, yanking him so close that he almost feels the moisture as Fujigaya licks his lips, biting the bottom one with his teeth just enough to drive Kitayama crazy.

“I’ll be the one doing the fucking here,” is all he says, and the next thing he knows is Fuijgaya’s tongue in his mouth.

The kiss is more angles and tongue than necessarily needed but not unenjoyable in the least. Kitayama fists Fujigaya’s hair bringing him closer and change the angle slightly.

Fujigaya moves his hips against Kitayama’s, rubbing himself, creating a friction against his groin that he desires. After waiting for this all day, Kitayama’s more aroused than he’ll admit to, though he’s fairly certain his actions speak for themselves as he grabs Fujigaya by the hips and switches their positions.

“Mm, Mitsu,” Fujigaya breathes against his lips, and Kitayama doesn’t much mind that awful nickname when it’s spoken in that tone. “You _can_ take charge. I’m impressed.”

Narrowing his eyes, Kitayama pulls away enough to spin him around, pushing down on his back to bend him over, and he can’t even bring himself to care about the papers that go flying because Fujigaya looks so gorgeous splayed out on his desk like this.

It’s Fujigaya who pushes back to grind his ass against Kitayama’s crotch, making this obscene noise that has Kitayama reaching around for his belt buckle. The sound of Fujigaya’s pants and boxers hitting the floor are like a punctuation, reminding Kitayama where he is and what he’s about to do.

“Do you have anything,” he hisses, not even raising his voice at the end because Fujigaya _better_ be prepared if he’s accosting people in his office — never mind that Kitayama’s actually the one accosting him right now.

“Of course,” Fujigaya replies, like it was a dumb question. “In my pants pocket.”

Kitayama looks down and sighs. That would have been good information to have before they were on the _floor_. Still he kneels down, rummaging around in the pockets until he finds a condom and a small packet of lube. He drags his nails up the back of Fujigaya’s thighs as he stands back up, feeling a rush from Fujigaya’s low gasp.

It’s easy for him to coat his fingers and stretch him, those little moans reaching his ears as Fujigaya pushes back and takes him deeper. He cries out when Kitayama finds that spot inside him, moving harder and faster to hear more, and he’s moving three fingers in and out of him when Fujigaya leans over his shoulder with such a lustful look that Kitayama falters in his efforts.

“God, Mitsu, fuck me already.”

Kitayama doesn’t need him to ask again; he pulls out his fingers and rolls on the condom, groaning as he slathers some lube onto his cock before spreading Fujigaya open with his thumbs and watching himself disappear inside him. Fujigaya moans outright, arching and rocking back like a cat in heat even after Kitayama’s all the way in.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his voice coming out like a deep growl, and he notices how Fujigaya visibly shivers from it. Smirking, he leans down to drape himself over the other man’s back, rolling his hips in a sharp thrust as he keeps talking. “You’re tight for a slut, or are you just a slut in the mouth?”

Fujigaya doesn’t answer him, at least not with actual words. He has moans mixed in with each harsh breath, his elbows holding him up on Kitayama’s desk as Kitayama pounds him into it. There’s nothing slow and sensual about it, just hard and fast and he can tell that Fujigaya’s touching himself by the way his body tightens even more around him.

“Don’t you dare come on my paperwork,” he says, and Fujigaya shakily reaches for the box of tissues still on his desk from earlier. “ _Fuck_ , Fujigaya.”

“Harder,” Fujigaya chokes out, and Kitayama grabs his hips to thrust in double time. He also changes the angle, hitting him right where he wants it, and now Fujigaya’s moans echo throughout the room. It’s a good thing they didn’t do this earlier when everyone was here, Kitayama thinks just before he’s overcome by his male instinct to _fuck_.

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, giving in to the sensations that consume him with each thrust into that tight heat that squeezes him back. He can tell when Fujigaya comes because it’s suffocating, making him use even more force to push through it as his own grunts get louder. It’s actually Fujigaya’s soft “Mitsu” that inevitably gets him off, thrusting until he doesn’t know anything but the stars behind his eyes, and then he turns to the side, leaning against his desk for support.

It’s hot in the office, unbearably so, once Kitayama has calmed down and his breath has returned to him. It takes him a little extra effort to pull up his pants. Fujigaya is still sprawled over his desk for a few extra moments with his ass in the air. “I would appreciate it if you put your pants back on now.” His office smells like sex, Kitayama notices as he picks up the papers off the floor to place them on his desk. He can sort those tomorrow. Hopefully the smell will be gone.

“You need to lighten up, Mitsu.” Fujigaya says, redoing his belt buckle. There’s a sly smile on his face. “Maybe I should visit more often, it might do you some good.”

Kitayama glares while loosening the tie around his neck and grabbing his bag. It’s best if he just keeps his mouth shut.

In the elevator, Fujigaya dances like an idiot to the slow music. Moves that strangely remind Kitayama of the Christmas party last year when he got that stupid sign that started it all. He has that strong desire now to tell Fujigaya to stop being unprofessional, to stop sleeping with the workers in his department, to stop fucking with him. But he doesn’t. He only exits the elevator when it stops and goes on home.

The next morning when Kitayama walks by his secretary’s desk as usual Senga stops him. “You have a few messages, sir.” Senga never calls him sir. Kitayama narrows his eyes but stops anyway. “Taipi asked me to give this to you this morning.” He hands over a small piece of paper in a horrid shade of pink that’s harsh on the eyes. “You should take him up on that lunch offer so he stops complaining to me.”

“Thanks,” Kitayama grumbles as he disappears into his office. Who even passes notes in a business setting like this? Fujigaya does, apparently. Kitayama wants to be annoyed about it, but when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror next to his door, he’s smiling.

He supposes he should just be happy that his office doesn’t smell like sex anymore.

After hanging his blazer up on the door, he unfolds the note. “Look up” is all it says, and Kitayama rolls his eyes as he does. He almost expects Fujigaya to be hiding on the ceiling somewhere, but there’s nothing but the fluorescent lights.

Then his gaze lands on the bulletin board, where that goddamn sign had been returned to its usual place, this time bordered by ridiculous cut-out hearts the exact same color as the note in his hand.

Shaking his head, he walks over to his desk and punches an extension on his phone.

“Yo, it’s Taisuke~” that voice drawls, sounding tired and entirely too sexy.

“Are you a teenage girl?” Kitayama asks.

“Good morning to you, too,” Fujigaya replies. “And I can be, if you want.”

“That’s disgusting,” Kitayama tells him. “If I go to lunch with you, will you leave me alone?”

“No,” Fujigaya answers bluntly, “but I’ll leave everyone else alone.”

Kitayama thinks about the implications of that statement as he notices the stupid grin on his face. “Deal.”


End file.
